


Up In Pink Smoke

by Flanemoji



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Dubious clown consent, F/F, clown seduction, read at ur own risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25061152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flanemoji/pseuds/Flanemoji
Summary: Hi, this is A NSFW ficlet I wrote based on an amazing artwork from my friend Lottie, which you can view here:https://twitter.com/trashcanprince/status/1278662474879795201?s=21It was fun to write, it’s dubious clown consent, and it’s pennywife/Beverly
Relationships: Pennywife/Beverly marsh
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Up In Pink Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> I would say sorry but I’m not enjoy

If you asked Beverly Marsh for a list of terrible things that have happened to her in her life, it would be a pretty long list. 

A dead mother. An abusive father. Spending her middle-school aged years smoking and getting bullied for being a so-called slut. Marrying Tom Rogan, who comes with his own subset of terrifyingly awful bullet points she wishes she could have escaped from sooner.

More recently, you could add murder, an unearthed fear of clowns, watching your friends nearly get killed, _actually_ having premonitions of your best friends deaths… 

The point is, the list goes on. Beverly Marsh is no stranger to traumatizing events. She feels like _this_ may just be in the top five of that list. 

_This,_ of course, refers to being caught in the trap of an interdimensional monster intent on killing her. 

Because, of course, it would happen to her. 

She just didn’t think it would happen like this. 

At one point, there was a cave. Dark and cold, dripping with sewage, blood, and dirt. Her friends were behind her screaming warnings, shouting her name. She thinks Bill or Mike might have said something to her, to not look up, to close her eyes…but that is all so far away now. 

Everything is bathed in soft, welcoming light. Cotton candy pink and sunshine yellow hues, a heavy fog surrounds her that feels warm and comforting. Beverly clenches her fists, searching for an exit point or a weapon or a foe, but only Patel dust surrounds her, clogging her senses. 

_Aren’t you tired of all this, Beverly?_

It’s a honey-sweet voice that drips all around her, echoing in a vast space with no end or beginning. She shivers, spins around in her spot to find the source, but to no avail. 

_You’ve been through so much. Suffering at the hands of others who are meant to give you love… I can change that for you, darling._

“Stop hiding!” Beverly twists again, waves her hands to lift pink clouds of smoke away from her. “Show yourself and put up a real fight!” 

The fog twists and twirls like a soft serve ice cream cone, and with a bubble-like _pop!_ She emerges. She’s huge, with butterfly wing lashes and cherry red accents. She smiles, baring sharp teeth. 

“Oh… Beverly… I don’t want to fight! _You_ want to fight. I want to offer you something more.” Her gloved hands reach toward her, covered in ruffles. Beverly doesn’t miss the sharpened talons that extend from her fingers, or the size of them in comparison to her. 

Beverly steps backwards into more nothing, searchers again for what was there once before. There _was_ something, wasn’t there? “You don’t have anything to offer me.” Bev keeps her voice sure and steady. 

She laughs, musical notes that chime like a ballerina music box. “Poor, strong Beverly… always the backbone… never cared for, never loved, never treated delicately.” One of those monstrous fingers reaches for Bev, caressing her cheek with satin-smooth gentleness. Beverly steps backwards again, hitting a solid wall of another hand, twice her size. 

“I-I don’t need to be treated delicately!” 

She tuts, continues to pet at her cheek like child would a little doll, or like an animal who plays with its prey. “No, no of course you don’t _need_ to be… but are you really going to tell me you don’t want to be?” Another clawed finger traces the front of Beverly's body gingerly, a light touch that sends a chill up Beverly’s spine. 

There’s more smoke and then She stands in front of her, large but not a towering building like before. 

“Always so rough with you, dear Beverly…” She traces her finger tips up her arms, over her tense shoulders, “Hands that grip and bruise…” Her nails glide up over Bev’s neck, tilt her chin up and force Beverly to look up at her big yellow eyes. They glow, enchanting and mesmerizing. Beverly sways on her feet. 

“Oh I know, I know sweet Beverly, you can take it. You’ve always handled everything, the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Her words are wispy things that tickle Beverly’s ears, ruffling her hair. There are hands on her waist now, picking at hems, tugging at loops. “Always taking responsibility for everything, darling… don’t you want to let go of some of that?” 

Beverly opens her mouth to answer, a firm _no_ that she feels on the tip of her tongue. It wavers when something warm tickles her neck, just under her ear. “Little dear… I can give you that… something you’ve never had…” 

_Something you’ve only ever fantasized_ _about._

Beverly releases a shaky breath at the realization that she’s pressed up against something warm and soft. She blinks her eyes to fight the fog that seems to surround her, like a weighted blanket that makes everything feel safe. She looks up towards Her, long lashes fluttering paired with a soft, seductive smile. Beverly feels the tension leave her shoulders as she sags forward, resting against a solid frame that holds her up. “I—”

“No, no…” Something brushes against her lips, trails down over the front of her body. “Why don’t you let someone else take care of you? I know what you want… what you need.” 

Smoke continues to swirl around them, bubbly tendrils that take form in Bev’s blurry vision. Spirals of pink clouds push and prod at her, wrapping around her arms, wiggling between her legs, soft touches that light up with sensitivity. 

“I— _ahh,”_ Beverly opens her mouth again to question, but something rubs against her that shoots pleasure up her spine, down to her fingertips. She feels weighted between that place of _awake_ and _asleep_ , like a surreal dreamland. 

“Yes, that’s it darling.” She coos, holds Beverlys face in her clawed hands. Her eyes swirl blue and yellow, Beverly staying transfixed as fluffy coils of clouds keep her hypnotized in waves of pleasure. 

It’s a blur after that for Beverly. There are only pink clouds and yellow eyes in her vision. Her mind drifts into hazy pleasure, with touch overtaking all her sense of reality. There’s warmth, there’s tingling, there’s a delicious feeling of sensitivity along her whole body, from her lips to her chest to the sweet focal point between her legs, where the pressure focuses, blood rushing and pounding there. Beverly releases a breath she’s holding, teeth scrape her neck and claws dig into her flesh. She whimpers, realizing she can’t move her hands, arching her back against the touches along her body. 

_Oh, how I do adore to see you spread out like easy prey, little dear… Perfect for the devouring._

It’s a sugarcoated threat that Beverly has no focus to pay mind to. She’s focused on the feelings consuming her, rocking and rutting against whatever so much as brushes her sensitive skin. 

And like a bubble bursting, there’s only darkness. 

Beverly is panting hard, scrabbling at the rocks and the dirt, searching for something cold and harsh and real. Ben is above her, holding her face and screaming. She catches words through her muffled hearing: _deadlights, hurt, blood_. 

Her chest heaves with the effort of breathing, and Beverly feels shaken. She looks around, adjusts herself to the surroundings again. There is a cave. Dark and cold and dripping with sewage. Her friends are there, surrounding her. Ben talks to her while Bill rips pieces of his flannel off for Eddie to make bandages out of. Her head rests in Richies lap and Mike stands watch. They all stare at her with fear in their eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Ben asks her, so unsure, so terrified. 

She laughs and shakes her head. “No.” 

Ben’s face hardens, frown lines that don't belong coming into view. Bill speaks up.

“Let’s kill that fucking clown once and for all.”


End file.
